


(it's all a lie, you'll understand soon)

by kinpika



Series: BLUE [5]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Guns, Spoilers, mentions of needles, surgeries, the Farm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 01:03:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: You were just supposed to be a tool. And tools don't have opinions.





	(it's all a lie, you'll understand soon)

When you wake, the process feels more forceful than usual. Not the slow drag of waking you had been so used to by now, but a jolt up your side, kickstarting your heart. Bringing you back into the world with enough force you can feel a yelp tear its way up your throat.

But you don’t make a noise, swallowing it as you blink in the low light of the room. Glowing yellow and blue from the screens, throwing a terrible green hue over your feet. You watch how your heart rate slows, far too low for the average human. They knew you were awake, but you continued to be ignored.

So your eyes fall to the left, away from the screens that detailed every little aspect of the only things you had known. To the tanks, where you sat too. Dead, for lack of a better word. Only three maintained being filled now, with the last one empty. Squinting through orange liquid, you can see your wounds. Chest caved in, lower half torn off, head gone. But that didn’t matter, because broken parts could still be put back together.

That’s what you had always been told. They loved your mind, and the potentials that had yet to be unlocked. Who you were, what image you were made in, meant nothing to them. There’s no questioning the choice, of why your hair was red, or your eyes black. Nothing, as you stare your reflection down, watching fine machines move in the tanks, bubbles the only things getting in their way.

A body was expendable, it was nothing. It didn’t define you, 1064-N. One-zero-six-four-en. That’s what they had told you, at night, when the aches from new joints kept you up. How you had to relearn how to walk, how to move. How to run. Your shots remained sharp, finger work fine. The body was expendable. It didn’t define you.

You don’t know how you could explain this one. Had you been put immediately back into tank number four? Reinserted without proper waiting period? You knew the numbers and rules, as you and Death had a funny relationship by now. After all, you were never truly gone, not really.

They’d never let you pass on.

Finally, the scientists turn towards you. Patches and tubes and the hush. No words. Busy little bees, that’s what they had been called. So careful in how they treated you, like you were brand new. Newfound fragility, and it was so startling. They had never treated you this way before, so you tense.

Was this it? Forcible termination upon failure was so common place, you hadn’t even noticed the initial shock nor the injection after you fired your weapon. But you had heard the whispered thoughts, when they thought the dampeners had been on. Seen the slow kiss pass through another re-genes body, felt them leave. Shut off for good.

Balling your hands into fists, you don’t mean to react. Don’t mean to push. You thought you had done the right thing. What you had always been told to do.

But you can only stare at your previous lives, long gone. Cut up and put back, like a fine puzzle that required concentration and care. Was there care with you. Eyes trace the scars around knees, shoulders. Some more delicate than others, but that was determined by the surgeon. Their anger.

Your anger. Face turned forward, you’re greeted by the sight of your handler. A sorry look on his face, crouching in front of you. Always giving up ground, expecting you to take it. From your seat, you don’t look down, just ahead. Dig half-moons into your palms.

“What happened out there, bud?” Manipulation was learnt from the master. Those careful, calculated words, honeyed and laid out. “You were going so well.”

“There was a mugging.”

Behind him, the last amount of footage plays. Different angles, from your camera and others. How you turned away, to the street on the other side. Watching, you frown. Remember feeling something other than cold. And it _burned,_ all the way up. Set you on fire, as you swung your rifle around.

 _Bang!_ The mugger drops, camera zooming in to make out a knife, the scarred face of the would-be victim. How they tried to find the source of the shot, but turn and run. You count multiple infractions thought out the video. Shouldn’t have moved in the first place. Should’ve taken down the witness.

A long pause, as the last video is brought front and centre. Termination. A solid shot of electricity had filled your body, followed by the drop onto the street below. You don’t remember it at all.

“I see that,” is all he says. Fingers twirl a pen, and you align the habit with needing a cigarette. Or nerves. Maybe both.

“It was the right thing to do.”

With a deep sigh, he pushes himself up. Hands on hips, pacing in front of the footage. Different angles of where you had spread out on the pavement. Not too much damage, you note. Only a storey up. Where had the body gone?

If by a summon, with that thought, the back of your head aches. You’re filled then, quietly, with a certain amount of fear. They hadn’t inserted you into another. Woken you up instead. Eyes slide to the left once more. To the long gone and deceased. Were you to join them?

You don’t know if you could be reinserted, back into the freezer. To just sit and wait for a good time to come back out, when they were nice and ready for you. You didn’t want to restart, again.

“Heart rate climbing,” a monotonous voice offers from your right. More panels, more charts. All the different chips being flicked through, monitored. Relaxing your hands now, controlling your heart.

“Calm down, it’s okay.” He holds a hand up, and the words might not be directed at you. Brain activity spans the walls now, charts in where there are jumps. Which lobe is under fire. How the chips are activated, taking it down.

“We have to protect—”

But you’re cut off, sharp gaze turned towards you now. “I understand. It’s okay, you did well.”

Despite the way his words remain soft, you don’t feel the comfort. There’s that unbidden weight to him, a knife stashed behind his back. And you’re back to fading into the distance, with how he turns. “How far away is Dr Evan?”

“Coming down the hall now.”

Reset. Reset reset reset. Fire fills your bones. Ignites. Not again. You couldn’t do it again. Hands smack out, catching a scientist in the face. An _oof!_ and you’re being forced back. “Logan, please, I thought—”

“Get her prepped for reset. Evan will want to start immediately.” Fingers pointed, hands pulling you back. Metal lowers, chaining you to the chair now.

“Logan, I can explain!”

Turning back, you get the sad, sorry smile. The one reserved for the worst. “Sorry, bud, but you know the rules.”

You and Death have a funny relationship, as you disappear in those cold, black eyes.


End file.
